


hold all my cliches on the tip of my tongue to tell you that it's love

by ghostlypup



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst (only a lil bit), Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, lucas goes Thru it slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlypup/pseuds/ghostlypup
Summary: When he’d planned it, it went down a lot smoother in Lucas’ head. Turns out, surprising someone is a lot more difficult than people made it out to be. Lucas had texted him when he arrived at Eliott’s dorm, saying open your door, fully expecting Eliott to then open it, surprise but happiness pulling at his features, and then engulf him in a hug.What he didn’t expect however, was for Eliott to then text him saying he was busy planning his art showcase that started at 7pm that same evening.Or, Lucas visiting Eliott at university for the first time doesn’t quite go as he’d planned.





	hold all my cliches on the tip of my tongue to tell you that it's love

When he’d planned it, it went down a lot smoother in Lucas’ head. Turns out, surprising someone is a lot more difficult than people made it out to be. Lucas had texted him when he arrived at Eliott’s dorm, saying  _open your door_,  fully expecting Eliott to then open it, surprise but happiness pulling at his features, and then engulf him in a hug. 

What he didn’t expect however, was for Eliott to then text him saying he was busy planning his art showcase that started at 7pm that same evening.

Lucas spent at least 10 minutes cringing at himself for being that stupid. But he brushed it off, texting him for directions. He’d ruined the element of the surprise, but when Eliott had texted him reassuring him that he’s just as excited to see him, he calmed a bit.

Lucas also thought that when he visited Eliott for the first time, it would be way more dramatic; like the big reunions you see splashed about in big Hollywood movies. However when Lucas arrives at the gallery, after many wrong turns, he’s alone for the main portion of the night.

Eliott was busy seeing everything and everyone, being the main event. And Lucas felt like he was swimming at the deep end, making small talk with people he’d never met in his life, looking at art he thought a child was just as capable of creating. Holding a small flute with cheap champagne, he makes his way through the gallery— trying to not let his mind wander to  _Eliott_ every time he came to a new canvas.

That was until, he reached Eliott’s part of the exhibition. He doesn’t know what he expected— but it certainly wasn’t the itching fear that worked its way into his stomach. He clenches his drink too tight, almost making the plastic cup snap in half.

It’s Eliott’s art— for sure, but it’s art he’s never seen before. It’s not the art he’s seen Eliott stay up until stupid hours of the night for, not the art he’s seen him stress over to the point of tears. Not the art that’s been etched onto his skin with blue pen, rushed and endering. It makes him think of a conversation they had a while back.

_It’s late, neither of them caring exactly what the time is. They’ve been talking about nothing and everything, tangled up to the point where they don’t know where each other begins. Lucas’ favourite place, he thinks.  
_

_Eliott brushes a loose strand of hair away from Lucas’ face, tucks it behind his ear— scratches slightly at his scalp. In his sleepy state, Lucas hums contently. He shuffles closer, brings his hand to lightly trace along Eliott’s shoulders, all the way to his collarbone._

_“Why do you love art so much?” Lucas whispers. In the silence of the room it echoes. His eyes follow his own finger, the way he drags it down Eliott’s chest, and up again until it reaches Eliott’s pulse. He presses down lightly. Eliott is quiet before he replies._

_“It’s like seeing life through someone else’s eyes.” He says, grabbing onto Lucas’ hand and bringing it between them. Lucas lets him hold it, bringing them up so they lay flat against each other. “I love seeing how people interpret things in their own way. For example, I might paint the sun yellow, but someone might paint it blue.”_

_“A blue sun?”_

_“Yeah.” Eliott laughed._

_“I think I get it.” Lucas replies, moving forward to intertwine their legs. He wraps his arms around Eliott’s middle and tucks himself under Eliott’s chin— feels him press a chaste kiss to his forehead._

_“That and I’ve never been good with words.” Eliott mumbles. Lucas laughs slightly, leans backwards._

_“Alright, mister In case you ever foolishly forget...” Lucas says in a singing tone. Eliott rolls his eyes._

_“But it’s always someone else’s words. Never mine.” Lucas shrugs._

_“That doesn’t make them any less meaningful.” Eliott purses his lips and Lucas knows that he doesn’t agree with him, but still appreciates what he says nonetheless. He eventually smiles and runs his leg up Lucas’ calf, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Lucas’ lips. “I love the way you think.” Lucas says._

_Eliott simply smiles and presses their foreheads together, sleep starting to grip onto them both._

Lucas thinks about that conversation, and grows scared because he can’t  see  Eliott in this art. He may not be as in tune with the subject as Eliott, but he’s in tune with  _Eliott_,  so as he stares at the brushes of colour on the canvas— he’s scared. Because he can’t _see_ him  in it. Lucas has heard about what distance does to people.

He doesn’t get to think about it long enough. Because he turns his head— and there he is, the human embodiment of sunshine wrapped up in a fancy shirt and denim jacket.

Lucas basks in the way he instantly relaxes as Eliott barrels towards him, and so places his drink down on the nearest table. Opening his arms, Eliott steps right into them— squeezes tight, too tight; almost lifts Lucas off the ground— and hugs him. Lucas instantly relaxes. It wasn’t the big movie reunion he was hoping for but it comes close.

All of the sour feelings fizzing around in his body subsides as Eliott draws him back for a chaste kiss; he goes to deepen it, but Lucas draws back— smile too wide.

“I missed you so much.” Eliott breaths out. Lucas grins even wider, bringing his hand to push back Eliott’s hair.

“Me too,” he gently presses a kiss to Eliott’s cheek. “So much.” Another kiss.

Eliott draws back— doesn’t take his eyes off Lucas’. “What do you think then?” He gestures to the paintings. Lucas swallows.

“It’s gorgeous,” Eliott’s giddiness wears off on Lucas, enough to ignore his previous fear. “I’m so proud of you.” Eliott’s smile is so big— it makes Lucas’ own heart swim.

“Come on,” Eliott replies, clasping Lucas’ hand with his own. He drags him through the gallery. “I have to introduce you to some people.”

Eliott holds his hand for the rest of the night, and for a while he’s okay. That is, until it’s time to leave.

It’s just them and Eliott’s friends— too many faces that Lucas has already forgotten half the names of. They suggest going to get drinks— and Eliott is excited, almost too excited as he suggests they go to a bar that he just  _ knows Lucas will love.  
_

Call him selfish, but Lucas doesn’t want to go to the bar. He’s tired of sharing Eliott— and all he wants to do is go back to Eliott’s dorm, watch a movie and cuddle.

But Eliott’s high off attention and compliments, and so Lucas plasters a smile on his face and says  _lead the way._

And if Lucas was in a better mood he would have loved it. The bar was actually nice; not too crowded but enough life to carry a buzz. But Lucas has had a weird feeling in his stomach ever since he arrived, so everything’s too loud and grates away uncomfortably at his skin.

He thinks he can make it through the night, at first. Eliott’s friends pay enough attention to him enough for him to ignore his own thoughts. Asking questions that make his heart warm; like—  _where did you and Eliott meet? Have you been together long?_

But then the conversation shifts and Lucas struggles to follow along. They talk about things he doesn’t know about, things Lucas thinks if he contributed to would sound stupid— so he sits quiet. Watches as Eliott talks, laughs— watches as he talks about things Lucas has never heard him talk about before.

And he thinks that’s when it hits him. That this is Eliott. Eliott with his artsy school friends, talking about things Lucas has never even considered. This is Eliott who creates art Lucas doesn’t understand anymore.

Eliott has made a home and Lucas isn’t in it.

Lucas chugs back the last of his drink, ignoring the way it burns his throat and instead savouring the way it numbs his thoughts.

Lucas feels Eliott laying his hand on his thigh, feels the way he squeezes it. Lucas looks down at it. He then looks up at Eliott but he’s not looking at him, instead engaging in a conversation with someone else. And then the hand feels out of place. Lucas feels out of place.

Lucas doesn’t belong here, with Eliott. This Eliott.

Lucas rushes to the bathroom. He thinks he mutters something along the lines of  _it’s too hot in here_—  but he doesn’t bother checking if anybody hears him.

He’s in the stall not even one minute when he hears the door open, music growing louder before quickly fading as it shuts again. It’s quiet and Lucas tries to slow his breathing down; he knows it’s Eliott, and he thinks if he’s quiet enough Eliott will eventually leave.

_He’ll never leave_,  he hears somewhere in the back of his head. But it’s too far away.

“Lucas?” Eliott pries, gently knocking on the stall door. “Lucas, what’s wrong?” His voice is muffled but he can hear the growing concern laced in his words. Guilt nipping at his stomach, he unlocks the stall door and quickly wraps himself around Eliott. Lucas is thankful that he holds him back, unquestioning.

“Can we go home?” Lucas whispers into Eliott’s chest. He doesn’t say that when he means home, he means Paris and the flat, with Mika and Lisa and their too small bed— not the dorm that Eliott has had the privilege of making home.

“Of course.” Lucas closes his eyes and buries himself further into Eliott, grateful in way Eliott squeezes him tighter.

On the bus however, it’s hard to shrug off Eliott’s concern. When he gently prods his leg with Lucas’s own, _asking _ _what’s going on_—  Lucas is able to play it off with tiredness and a short smile. But as they get into Eliott’s dorm, and eventually crawl and squeeze together onto Eliott’s single mattress— it’s impossible to fight off Eliott’s worry.

Lucas turns on his side immediately as they lay down, and Eliott doesn’t waste anytime spooning up against him. Lucas lets himself relax as Eliott wraps his arms around his waist, but tenses as Eliott whispers, “What’s wrong, Lucas?” His voice is firm, like this time he’s not going to let Lucas get away with waving him off. But he tries anyway.

“I’m fine.” He replies. Feeling the way Eliott huffs in what he thinks is impatience, Lucas screws his eyes shut.

“Lucas.” And the way he says it, as if to say  _stop lying to me_,  punches him in the gut. Eliott’s body is then leaving his, and he immediately wants to hurry over to him and bring him back, because he hates how he’s pushing him away. Lucas stares as Eliott sits up on the bed, stares as his back hunches over. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re clearing not. I know you. I mean, did I do something wrong? Should I be apologising here?”

“No,” Lucas shuts him down quickly. “You haven’t done anything.”

“Then what?” Eliott presses. “You didn’t have to come here, you know.”

It’s the way he says it, mixed with the truth of his statement, that makes him breakdown. The tears fall before he can press his hands to his eyes, a small hiccup escaping. He makes himself small, pressing his hands to his face in hopes it will somehow stop the wetness forming on his cheeks. Eliott is all over him, though, before he can wipe them away.

“Lucas, I’m sorry.” Eliott sighs into his hair as he balls him up in his arms. It only makes Lucas cry harder, and he hates it. “I’m just worried about you.” Lucas nods and savours the way Eliott runs his hands soothingly up and down his own back.

He sits up, harshly wipes at his face— to which Eliott gently pushes his hands away, lightly wipes the stubborn tear out the way with his own finger. Lucas gives him a wobbly smile.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Eliott shakes his head, “Don’t apologise.” Eliott says. “Just tell me what’s going, please?”

“It’s stupid, honestly—“

“It’s not stupid if it’s got you this upset.” Eliott interrupts him. Lucas goes to look down, but Eliott holds his face, resting their heads together. “Just tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me know what going in that head of yours.” Eliott gently nudges his nose against Lucas’. Lucas bites down the apology forming on his tongue and instead draws back.

He then looks up and stares at Eliott’s wall. He remembers when he had helped Eliott first move in— when all that was pinned up was the sticky note Eliott had left him a while ago; the two of them holding hands as two woodland creatures. It’s still up there, but it’s now covered by other pieces of paper; memories Lucas doesn’t know about. Lucas sighs.

“You just look so happy,” Lucas starts off, and continues when he sees the frown forming between Eliott’s brows. “That’s not a bad thing, obviously— but. It just stings that you’re happier without me.” Now that he’s said it out loud, he realises the weight of his words, and wants to take them back. He fiddles with the sleeve of Eliott’s shirt. “I just feel like you’re moving on without me— I don’t feel apart of your world here.”

Eliott’s quiet for a while but Lucas is too afraid to look up. Lucas feels him grip his face tighter.

“Is that what you think?” Eliott’s voice is small. “That you don’t belong here?”

Lucas shrugs in reply. Then he hears Eliott sigh, and the hands holding his face fall away. For one horrible minute Lucas thinks he’s ruined absolutely everything, but then Eliott’s taking both of Lucas’ hands in his— gripping onto them so tight, as if Lucas could snatch them and run away.

“I know your brain has a habit of making you believe everyone always leaves, but I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” He lightly presses a kiss to Lucas’ forehead. Eliott then shuffles down and reaches under his bed, and brings up a box. Lucas frowns as Eliott puts it in his lap. “This was supposed to be your birthday present, but. Open it now.”

Once Lucas opens it his confusion doesn’t subside— in fact his frown deepens. Inside is random pieces of papers Lucas doesn’t recognise; small drawings, a few movie stubs, he thinks. He looks up to see a small smile tugging at Eliott’s lips.

“It’s things that I’ve collected since I’ve been here that have reminded me of you,” he starts off. “If I see something and I think of you I keep it. I was planning on putting all of it in a book or something, but— yeah.” He mumbles the last bit and Lucas is left dumbfounded.

Every worry that was clawing at his skin soothes as he looks at Eliott— the way he tries to hide his shy smile with a small shrug. Lucas can feel fresh tears prick behind his eyes but he doesn’t care this time— instead falls forward to wrap his arms around Eliott.

“I fucking love you.” He says it with such conviction that it makes Eliott laugh. Lucas looks up, not wanting to miss those half moons he fell in love with. “I’m sorry I ruined the present— and tonight.” Eliott shakes his head.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Lucas smiles, teeth showing and all. Eliott then leans down, presses a kiss to Lucas’ lips. Then one on his cheeks, nose, another on his mouth. Lucas is giggling as he does so, reaches up to throw his arms around Eliott’s shoulders. He then chases the kiss, deepening it until he hears Eliott hum.

They don’t sleep that night— in between kisses and soft sighs, Eliott talks about each item he collected and Lucas listens to each one; heart growing in size every time.

_“Eliott?” Lucas whispers. His eyes are heavy, and he feels warm all over from where Eliott pillows his head on Lucas’ chest.  
_

_“Yeah?” He mumbles back, half way between sleep and being awake. Lucas drags his hand down the dips of Eliott’s back._

_“I think I would paint the sun orange.” _

_Eliott hums, “Why’s that?” Lucas pauses._

_“Because it reminds me of you.” _

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed :’) this was way more angsty than i intended it to be so many apologies 
> 
> my tumblr is @mauuvelesbian :’)


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